The Prize
by Lungbarrovian
Summary: Leela learns a valuable lesson when the Doctor takes her to a funfair. Gentle whimsy (I hope!)


**The Prize**

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its many concepts and characters belong to the BBC.

* * *

Leela raised the rifle and sighted very carefully, taking her time, just as she'd been taught by her father and mother all those years ago. You never rushed when making a kill – no matter what the target was. Speed was an important factor, but you had to balance it with the need for accuracy. Accuracy was key. Accuracy meant a good clean kill – less waste, less spoilage.

The target was centred. Leela felt her pulse quicken, and made herself catch her breath, slow it down. Adrenaline was the hunter's ally, but it could also be your foe – make your muscles jump and your hand to quiver. It was simply a matter of achieving the right state of being. Hunters and sportsmen of a different age would have referred to this state as 'being in the zone'.

Leela was there right now. She squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

"Oooh, unlucky love! Never mind, best of three – better luck second time, eh?"

Leela slammed the rifle back down on the counter and glowered malevolently at the scruffy little owner of the shooting booth. "There is nothing lucky or unlucky about it – that weapon is faulty. I never miss!"

The cigarette protruding from the corner of the owner's mouth quivered indignantly. "You saying my rifles are fixed? Cobblers! You just missed, that's all! Stop being such a sore loser and have your other shots!"

Leela jabbed a finger towards the targets, about ten or so feet away from the counter, a sequence of bright yellow balloons tacked to hardboard screen gaily painted with crude facsimiles of various wild animals – lions, tigers, elephants and the like. "A mere infant could not hope to miss those bags from this range! This game is fixed so that I cannot win!"

The owner drew himself up to his full height – all five foot three of it – and tried to assume an assertive air. "Now look here-"

Leela snatched up the rifle, threw it to her shoulder, and in quick succession snapped off her remaining two shots. Neither hit. She thrust the weapon towards the man. "In my opinion, the barrel of this weapon is misaligned. The kick is all wrong. I also do not feel any power in the projectile. That means the mechanism is faulty."

The owner snorted. "You don't know what you're talking about! Those are Daisy air rifles, as seen on TV, best there are! I been running this booth at this fair for nigh on twenty years-"

"With the same rifles?" Leela interrupted sourly.

"- And I ain't ever had no one complain about 'em before!"

Leela folded her arms. "I also expect you do not have to give many prizes away!"

The owner had had enough of this, not least of all because he was afraid of the adverse effect it was having on his business. Leela's voice was carrying, rather. "Right – go on – sling your hook. You've had your go, now hop it!" And he jerked a thumb at her.

But Leela had had enough too. She saw this as an affront to her skills as a hunter. Also she did not like being cheated, which was obviously what was happening here. "I shall not leave until you have given me my prize or my payment back!"

"You're not getting owt from me, girly! Push off!"

Leela set her jaw. "Very well. Then I shall show you exactly how expert I am at hitting a target!"

In one smooth, fluid motion, Leela drew the knife she had sheathed at her waist and threw it, the blade whistling through the air to bury itself dead-on through the centre of one of the balloons, which burst with a rather apologetic pop.

On its flight path, her knife had also neatly severed the tip of the owners cigarette. He was now staring at Leela with wide, frightened eyes, his skin now several shades paler. Leela smiled sweetly at him. "May I have my prize now?" she asked.

The man gulped, and managed to find his voice. "What – what would you like, miss?" he rasped.

Leela grinned with glee. The Sevateem had triumphed again!

* * *

The Doctor took his change from the lady behind the counter and turned away, lifting the grease-spotted bag up to savour the aroma drifting up from within. "Mmmm... doughnuts! Goodness, it's been ages since I've had a fresh one!" He smacked his lips appreciatively. "I'm really going to enjoy these!"

The TARDIS had landed in field just outside a small English town. Not an unusual occurrence, really, but what made it so different from the norm was the fact that also in the field was a fun fair. Not a terribly large or grand fun fair, but a fun fair nonetheless. And the Doctor was in a fun fair kind of mood; particularly when he caught the scent of the little doughnut stand in one corner of the fair. And besides, it was a good excuse to teach Leela a little more about her heritage.

"You'll love it, Leela!" he boomed as they left the TARDIS. "All the fun of the fair - dodgems, candy floss, toffee apples – maybe even a ghost train!"

Leela looked a little apprehensive at that. "A train of ghosts? Does it lead to the netherworld?"

"No, no, Leela, it's a ride – an amusement!"

"Ghosts are – an amusement?"

"Not real ghosts, Leela – just pretend ones. Why, they're probably no more than bits of painted cloth and paper mache on springs and bits of string. You see, you sit in a sort of small cart on tracks, and you go round this darkened area and these ghosts jump up and scare you – or try to!"

Leela looked baffled. "What is so amusing about being scared?"

"It's not a real scare, Leela. Just a pretend one. Like the ghosts!"

"But why?"

"Because... because people enjoy a good scare, that's why!"

"I do not enjoy being scared."

"Some people do."

"Then they are fools. Fear saps the mind and warps the reason. It is not wise to attempt to enjoy such an experience." She tossed her long, sleek brown hair imperiously and strode ahead of the Doctor. "I shall not accompany you on this 'amusement'."

The Doctor sighed and shook his head. Perhaps some things were better left unexplained after all.

* * *

There had been quite a queue at the doughnut stand when they'd arrived, so the Doctor had decided that it would be safe enough to let Leela do a little exploring by herself while he waited, so he gave her some coin of the realm and shooed her away. After all, what could possibly go wrong here?

After a brief dalliance in a hall of mirrors – Leela would certainly love that! – he set about trying to find his young companion. He nearly groaned out loud when he walked round a bouncy castle and Leela came out of a crowd to greet him. Clutched in her arms were all manner of bizarre objects; over-stuffed teddy bears, lurid leering troll-dolls, a fluffy penguin with a drooping orange beak and crossed-eyes, and, tethered loosely to one hand, a silver helium balloon with a picture of Mickey Mouse grinning away. She appeared to be oblivious to how incongruous she looked, holding that lot while clad in her usual brief animal hide outfit, hunting knife sheathed at her hip. At least it was sheathed, though...

"Leela, Leela, Leela... where on earth did you get those things?"

She grinned. "I won them!"

"Did you?" He gave her a sideways suspicious look. "Leela, you haven't been waving your knife around again, have you?"

"Only to prove a point." she replied defensively.

The Doctor had to chuckle at that. "Was that meant to be a joke, Leela?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I never joke about knives, Doctor."

"Yes, well..." The less asked the better, the Doctor decided. He also decided that it might be wise to make a swift departure before the local constabulary arrived – as usually seemed to happen when he brought Leela to Earth in this period. The hall of mirrors and the ghost train would have to wait. "You've obviously been enjoying yourself, so, um, why not let's call it a night, eh?" He held up his bag and rustled it. "I've got doughnuts!"

"Doughnuts?"

"Yes! Food! A great Earth delicacy!" He smacked his lips noisily. "Mmmm!"

Leela nodded. "Good – then we shall feast well tonight. I have food too."

"Have you?" The Doctor eyed her bundle of prizes warily. "Teddy bears give me indigestion, you know."

"Not bear, Doctor – fish!" She held up her right hand. In it she clasped a transparent plastic filled with water – and a small orange coloured fish bobbed within it.

"A goldfish! Leela, you can't eat that!"

Leela held the tiny fish up and stared at it. "Admittedly, it is small, but perhaps boiled into a soup-"

The Doctor was mortified. "No, no, no – goldfish aren't food! They're pets!"

Leela frowned. "Pets?"

"Yes, you know – animals you keep and look after and care for. Dogs and cats, that sort of thing."

The concept was clearly alien to Leela. "I do not know of these dogs and cats of which you speak. The Sevateem kept only the animals we required for their meat or for their milk, or for their hides." She looked at the goldfish again and wrinkled her nose. "Though the skin of this one would barely cover your thumb."

The Doctor shuddered. "Remind me never to take you to Crufts then – look, Leela, let's get back to the TARDIS. I shall explain there..."

* * *

"What are you going to call it?"

"What?"

"What are you going to call your fish?"

"I have to give it a name?"

"It's customary when keeping a pet."

The goldfish now occupied a large globular ball which the Doctor had sent up in the centre of the wooden console in the TARDIS' secondary control room – a singularly incongruous sight. Leela was bent over the console, resting her head in her hands and staring at the fish intently.

"I do not know what to call it. I have never named anything before."

The Doctor grinned and closed up the panel of the section of the console he'd been adjusting. "Well, there's a first time for everything. What do you think would make for a suitable name for a fish?"

"I do not know. To me a fish is simply a fish."

"I thought to you a fish was simply a square meal – no, Leela, look at the fish."

"I am looking at it!"

"No, I mean really look at it." The Doctor bent forward as well and indicated towards the bowl. "Everything has its own distinctiveness, its own character, Leela. Animals, particularly. A lot of people name their pets after those distinctions. You know, like Spot, or Stripey, or... or Fang..."

"Fang..." Leela's face lit up. "Fang, yes... that is a good word."

"I thought you'd like it," the Doctor observed dryly, straightening up.

Leela studied the fish more intently, nose pressed practically against the glass. "But I do not see any fangs, Doctor."

"Ah, but you most of all should appreciate that not all fangs are always visible... eh?"

Leela smiled and nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes... keeping them hidden until such time as ready to strike!"

"Well, um, quite. But I don't think that little fellow will ever strike anyone."

"Oh, don't worry, Doctor... I shall teach him." She tapped at the glass gently. "Won't I... Fang?"

* * *

Some time passed. Adventures were experienced, foes were defeated, and friends had been made. But Leela was troubled.

"Doctor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Fang is not happy."

"How can you tell?"

"I can just tell."

The Doctor finished hanging up his hat and scarf and turned to his companion, who was bent over the console staring at her pet in its bowl. "I thought you were a warrior of the Sevateem, not Dr. Doolittle."

"Fang is not happy," she repeated with a frown.

"Well, perhaps he doesn't like you trying to teach him to be a shark."

"I have not been trying to teach him anything – well, not recently, anyway." Leela had swiftly realised that her pet was never likely to become a fearsome warrior like its mistress, and was content to let it swim around in its own little world, doing whatever it was goldfish did. But of late Leela had detected a sort of listlessness about her pet, and it bothered her.

"Well," said the Doctor, coming over to the console, "what would you like me to do? A visit to a vet, perhaps? I know a good marine one on Thoros Beta..."

"No, Doctor. I do not believe Fang is ill. I just believe he is... unhappy."

"Ah." The Doctor looked at the fish, and then at Leela. "What would you like to do about it then?"

"I do not believe it is right to keep him like this. I do not believe it is right to deny him his freedom."

The Doctor looked slightly baffled. "Well, I could probably find a bigger tank, but-"

Leela shook her head. "No, Doctor. I mean..." She looked down at the fish, and took a deep breath. "I mean, I would like to set him free."

"Set him free?" The Doctor blinked at her. "Leela, he's a goldfish. It's not as simple as popping him back in a river or the sea, you know."

She folded her arms and set her jaw determinedly. "Nevertheless, I have decided. It is not right to keep him like this, trapped in this glass world. Fang should be allowed to roam free. That is what I would like."

Rarely was the Doctor ever completely nonplussed, but this time he was. Evil intergalactic dictators, meddlesome militaristic buffoons, natural and un-natural disasters, Daleks, Ice Warriors, even stowaway companions he could handle with aplomb, but giving a goldfish its freedom...?

A tiny bell rang in his head. A broad grin started to spread slowly across his face.

"Leela, I've just had a marvellous idea!"

"You know somewhere where he can be free?"

"Oh yes!" The Doctor began to hurry round the console, adjusting the controls. Now if he could just it right...

"A good home?" Leela asked hopefully.

"A very good home!" the Doctor grinned. He poised a finger over the dematerialisation switch. "Now hang to Fang tightly, this might be a bit bumpy..."

Leela grinned too and picked up the bowl and held on to it tightly. She was pleased, though she was sad too, to see her pet depart. But Fang would happy. That was what counted. She dipped her face close to the glass and regarded the goldfish solemnly. "You are going to a good home, Fang. You will be happy!"

* * *

Liz Shaw straightened up from inspecting her roses with a satisfied grunt and popped her pipe back into her mouth. They were coming along a treat, along with everything else in the garden. She was certainly glad she'd found this place, a little cottage in the Norfolk countryside where she could hide away and forget the trials and tribulations of Cambridge. It was just a pity she couldn't make it out here more often.

"Auntie Liz! Auntie Liz!"

Certainly her two young nephews – twins, her sister never did anything by half - enjoyed the place whenever they came to visit, particularly the garden, and especially the fish pond, around which the pair were huddled now.

"Coming," she called, lighting her pipe up and blowing a plume of smoke into the blue sky. Yes, they really did love that pond. It absolutely fascinated them. On a nice day, such as this one, she'd known them to spend practically all day just sat around it watching the fish and everything else that lived in it. There was fat toad in there somewhere, though she hadn't seen him for a while. The kids had been delighted when they first saw him.

"Auntie Liz! Auntie Liz! Come and look!"

"Yes, yes, coming..." She shook her head. What had they found now? The toad had made a reappearance, perhaps. She just hoped it wasn't because one of the fish had died. It upset her, and it doubly upset the children. "What is it?" she asked as she drew closer.

"There's a new fish!" cried Thomas, who slightly (only slightly, mark you, but never afraid to point it out) taller than his sibling and a bit more voluble.

"Hmmm?"

"There's a new fish! Look!" And he pointed towards the water. Simon, his brother, nodded eagerly.

"Yes! We counted them yesterday, and we counted them just now, and there is one more than was!"

Liz crouched down beside them. "Are you sure? Perhaps you counted one twice."

"No, no, we didn't!" insisted Thomas.

"Count for yourself!" said Simon.

Liz shrugged. Well, if it kept them happy... "All right then. You count along with me, then. One... two... three..."

There were supposed to be seven fish in the pond at that time, of varying sizes and shades. She'd bought them all from the same aquarium in Cambridge where she'd bought the fish she used to share her town flat with. They'd become something of a hobby.

"Six... no, we've done him, haven't we... that's six... seven... seven... oh!" Liz straightened up in surprise.

"See? See?" crowed Thomas triumphantly. "There are eight fish in there!"

Liz scratched her head. "How odd! I wonder how he got there?"

"Perhaps he's a baby!" giggled Simon.

"You're the baby!" laughed Thomas, giving his brother a playful shove. Naturally Simon pushed him back, and a wrestling match might have broken out had not Liz clapped her hands and called for order.

"Boys, boys! No fighting, now, you'll scare the fish."

The boys acquiesced. "But how did he get in there, Auntie?" asked Thomas.

"I really don't know, Thomas." She smiled. "But he's very welcome to stay. Look – I think he's started to make friends with the others already!"

"Yeah!" Then Simon gasped slightly. "Was it by magic, Auntie?"

"Yeah!" enthused Thomas, warming to his brothers' theme. "Did he get here by magic?"

Liz chuckled and tousled his hair. "Yes, Thomas. Magic!"

* * *

A lot earlier that morning – with the Shaw household all still fast asleep - as the Doctor carefully poured Fang into his new home, Leela told him that the fish had smiled at her. He didn't dispel the notion.

After all, why spoil a happy ending?

THE END


End file.
